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All this end-of-the-world sex talk makes Spartos wonder if she's been living in a cave all these months! (Actually, she's been living in a makeshift fort in her living room, from which she's been drinking 40s and watching CNN nonstop.) To her rescue comes on-again, off-again love interest Trust Fund, a philosophy grad student who likes to give Spartos long-winded answers to questions she never asked. "I don't know about all this entomology crap," retorts Spartos, "but I sure could use a drink."

Trust Fund wines, not dines, Spartos at romantic Japanese hideaway ANGEL'S SHARE (8 Stuyvesant Street, 777-5415; walk upstairs and take the door on your left), where the hushed atmosphere is maintained by three golden rules: no standing, no screaming, and no groups of more than four. Spartoswho grew up in a large family of Greeks constantly standing and screaming at each otheris immediately intrigued. But what intrigues her more is the mammoth menu of cocktails listing close to 100 specialty drinks. Spartos imbibes, in no particular order, a gentile, not gentle, mint julep ($13); a warm and fuzzy chocolate martini ($10); and a sweetly tart apple martini ($10). "So tell me about these Hegelian Dianetics," hiccups Spartos between swigs. "I think I saw a commercial for them the other day." Trust Fund orders a gin martini "up with an olive" ($9) before taking a large gasp of air.

When the lecture's over, it's off to dark and sensuous COZ (511 East 6th Street, 995-8889) for some vino and vittles. The upstairs S-shaped barwith its dim red glow and low-key vibesoffers a friendly, noncommittal atmosphere for first-date feelies. Equipped with a well-poured Chilean cab ($5) and a Heineken ($4), the duo devour an amply portioned meze platter (assorted Greek cheeses and meats, plus pita, olives, vegetables, and tahini; $20). Unfortunately, Spartos's buzz-induced bravado wears thinner with every toasted pita bite. So, while Trust Fund is engaged in a lively Socratic monologue, Spartos daydreams of buff Mediterranean men in sandals. "Wait a second," interrupts Spartos, "Was Socrates gay?" But before she gets an answer, she drags him out the door.

photo: Cary Conover

Coz & effect: first-date jitters at the 6th Street bar

They stagger down rose-petal-strewn steps into sexy and cavernous CHEZ ES SAADA (42 East 1st Street, 777-5617), where shadowy lanterns and giant bowls of glistening gratis olives are crowning touches to the sultry Moroccan mood. Although Spartos has to compete with lithe belly dancers and too-hot-to-trot waitresses in dainty pink frocks, she gets a major ego boost from a mouth-puckering Cleopatra (Absolut Mandarin and puree of blood oranges; $11) and a sassy Topaz Teardrop (Absolut Citron, pomegranate, molasses, and apricot nectar; $10). Imagining herself some kind of Dionysian nymph, Spartos shimmies suggestively toward Trust Fund. With a wink and her best sacrificial-virgin look, she whispers something involving "olive oil" and "orgies" into his ear. And for the first time during the night, Spartos gets the last word in.